


Memories Fade

by relatablepicsofrustyventure (fo4companionmusings)



Category: The Venture Bros
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, College, Complicated Relationships, Explicit Language, Flashbacks, Friends to Lovers, Homophobic Language, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Massage, Multi, Other, Sexual Confusion, Sexual Frustration, Size Difference, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-18
Updated: 2019-05-19
Packaged: 2020-03-07 03:22:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18864712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fo4companionmusings/pseuds/relatablepicsofrustyventure
Summary: Rusty Venture isn't a good person most of the time, but sometimes he is. People forget he's actually a human a lot, too. Maybe he's okay.Maybe he isn't.





	1. Chapter 1

Stress was Rusty Venture's middle name. What else could the "S" stand for? The longer he thought, the more he was certain that was what it meant. 

His night was going far less than ideal. Rusty couldn't believe he had gotten so pathetic that he basically made a fucked up roofie cocktail with Billy. Now, after everything with the mutated fly women had died down, the hangar had gone quiet and he was left to be stressed with his thoughts. And shit, were they stressful. 

His mind raced about how much of a failure he was. He thought about how he'd always be in his father's shadow, but that wasn't really new. 

Hank and Dean had packed up and gone inside after the whole ordeal, but everyone else was still here. The music was softer now, Pete having changed it to some more relaxing tunes to sit and drink to. That only made Rusty's thoughts louder. 

Rusty kicked at one of the corpses of the former hookers turned fly woman on the floor. It twitched and he grimaced. He felt lonely, idiotic, and worn out in every sense of the word. Here he was, kicking a corpse. 

He then took a seat at one of the tables and rested his face on his hand. Pete took a seat beside him. "Long night, pal?" 

"This just proves once again that the great Rusty Venture can't ever do anything right and actually isn't so great." 

"Rust, you gotta cut that shit out." Pete stated, wiping some blood off his jacket. "Hell, that was impressive. Scary, but impressive." 

"I guess." Rusty retorted, annoyance in his voice.

He looked across the room and found Brock chatting with Shore Leave and Orpheus. Everything was making Rusty irritated and uncomfortable. It was approaching 2 a.m. now, and Rusty decided that was enough. Small talk was boring. This party had gotten stale and boring. Still, it ended up being better than his own prom. 

He stepped outside the hangar, realizing nobody except Pete would have noticed that he had left. That was fine. He was beyond caring at this point. 

Crisp, fresh air entered his lungs and he stood there for a bit, the faint bass of music in the background. 

As he made his way back to the compound, he kicked at some sand with his shoes, hating the way the texture felt. It was so gritty and grating on his ears. 

Why did that matter so much? He didn't know. It felt so.. Complicated. Everything was covered with a film. Fuzzy.. He watched Shore Leave and Al kiss and honestly.. It made him feel... Jealous? Was that the word? He didn't know if that was the right terminology or not. 

His body stiffened and his instincts told him to run when he felt someone's presence behind him, but relaxed a little when he felt a large hand on his shoulder and turned, verifying it was Brock. 

"Hey." Brock said, promptly removing his hand.

"Hey." Rusty said in reply, quickening his pace to keep up with Brock as they continued toward the compound. "At least you got lucky tonight."

"What?" 

Rusty waved his hand around. "Saw you leave with a woman for a bit earlier." 

"Oh, uh yeah. That.. Didn't exactly go anywhere." 

"'Kay." 

Brock sighed. "Yeah, I guess." 

Things went awkwardly quiet for a bit. 

"Orpheus was getting rather handsy with everyone." Rusty chuckled.

"You have NO idea."

They arrived inside now, Rusty hating how cold the compound always was. Brock was a heat box and always turned up the air conditioning. He was scared to see the bill. He wasn't sure if they would be able to afford it.

The kids had also left a light on in the living room. They probably couldn't afford the electricity for that either. It was all just money down the drain. More money, more money, more money. 

Brock followed him and they both plopped down on the couch. Rusty had been tinkering with Pete and they had fine tuned Helper to be better about picking up on human emotions. The bot came sputtering in with a bottle of booze in hand almost immediately. 

"Beep beep bEep." 

"I am not.. Okay, fine. I'll take it. I'm not sad. Go away." Rusty snatched the bottle from his robot and waved his hand. 

"Beep boo beEE.." 

Rusty popped off the cap now and took a swig. He was wondering where the hell this came from, because it was far stronger than anything he'd usually have. It looked old too.

"Little fucker. That's from my room." Brock grabbed the bottle from Rusty and gave Helper a death stare before taking a swig himself. "Was saving this for a special occasion."

"What kind?" Risty inquired. 

"Not important." 

They took turns drinking in silence for a while. Brock finally capped the liquor after there was around a quarter of the bottle left. 

Rusty was feeling like a tipsy idiot, so he bid Brock goodnight and headed to his room. 

He shut the door behind him and sat down, his back against the door. He was unbelievably tired. He fell asleep in that same position, still in his suit.


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning was absolute hell upon Rusty's lower back. He sat up from his splayed position and scanned the floor for any clue as to where his glasses had vanished off to. He had to had to have been way more drunk than he thought, because he was only ten feet from the bed. 

Once he found his glasses, he popped them back on his face and tried to stand. It didn't work so well the first time, but after some coaxing and bracing against the wall he was able to do so. 

He swore under his breath and headed down the hall and in to the living room. What he found Billy and Pete passed out on the couch, the rest of the bottle Brock and him had drank last night completely empty. Rusty tried not to make any noise as he passed them, but Pete's eyes shot open and he wiped off his face where a bit of drool had accumulated. 

"Who said you could sleep on my couch?" Rusty asked, pointing a finger at Pete and starting to walk toward him, but stopped dead in his tracks, pain shooting down his spine. 

"Brock did. Jesus, are you alright?" Pete scrambled over, resting his hand on Rusty's shoulder. 

"Slept on it wrong, I guess." 

"I mean, I'm not a masseuse or anythin', but..." 

"You wanna give me a massage?" Rusty gestured toward himself, dumbfounded at the thought that anyone would want to help him. 

"Well.. Yeah, sure Rust. You let me do it in college before." Pete shrugged and pointed down the hall. "It's no big deal."

Rusty groaned and started back toward his bedroom, slowly but surely. Pete followed right behind him, still hard-pressed in his outfit from the prior night.

Upon entry, Rusty pulled off his jacket and shirt, crossing his arms to conceal his body a bit. 

"Jesus, Rust. I've seen you naked more than once." Pete tapped the bed. "Sit." 

Rusty groaned again and took a seat at the foot of his bed, Pete sitting cross-legged behind him. 

"Probably gonna hurt at first." Pete stated before pressing the heel of his palm just below the tiniest part of Rusty's neck. 

Rusty winced a bit from the pain, but Pete kept working that spor for a while, the pain slowly getting less and less. 

Once at the mid-point of Rusty's back, Pete pushed a bit harder than intended, so he braced his hand on Rusty's hip for a bif of leverage. 

"My bad." 

Rusty didn't think twice about it. Instead, he leaned back a little, his head resting on Pete's left shoulder. 

"How the hell are you colder than me?" Pete asked, stopping his massaging hand for a minute so the cramp that had formed could chill out. "Can I get you to lean forward? Gonna use my other hand now." 

Rusty took a deep breath and sat up more. "I suppose." 

"Cool." He then started with his other hand, finally reaching Rusty's problem area-- his lower back. He could feel the knots right beneath the surface. "I don't wanna make things weird, but.."

Rusty's eyes narrowed. "But?" 

"It'll just be a helluva lot easier if you play on your stomach." 

Rusty hesitated a bit at those words, but the pains and tenderness in his back was genuinely feeling better with Pete's help.

So, he scooted up on to his bed and on to his stomach. The legs of his suit pants riding up. 

Pete came up beside him, and started working on Rusty's lower half. He found a huge knot to the left of his spine and began moving his hands in an effort to rid of it. 

As it began to weaken, Rusty let out a little sigh of relief. "You have no idea how good that feels." 

"Yeah? Good to hear." He continued on a couple smaller knots, theh finishing up on his spine, ending at the crook of his back. "'Kay. Should be good to go." 

Rusty sat up on his bed and looked at Pete. "Thanks, White." Rusty wasn't even thinking. He didn't realize how close he had gotten to Pete. He didn't think Pete was really paying attention to this either. 

Was he supposed to move? Was Pete?

It happened in a split second. It was barely enough time to process. Pete's lips were pressed against his own. It wasn't until Pete had pulled away that it registered within Rusty. 

When Pete kissed him again, he kissed back. He found himself gripping the sheets of his bed with one hand, and cautiously reaching for Pete's own hand with his other. 

Pete pulled Rusty closer, pressing a kiss against neck. 

"Rust.." Pete whispered against Rusty's neck, the warm air sending a shiver down his spine. 

Rusty pulled himself on to Pete's lap now, running his fingers through his hair. 

Pete pressed more kisses to his neck, then moving to his collarbone and sucking a hickey in to it. 

"Fuck.." Rusty tugged on Pete's hair with one hand and squeezed his hand with the other. 

There was a creak of a door opening. Rusty's eyes and well as Pete's shot over to the doorway and found Brock standing beneath it.


	3. Chapter 3

Brock just stood there for a few seconds, door wide open, not really comprehending what had just unfolded in front of him. He didn't really know what he had seen. His brain was churning, trying to fathom the what and why of this, yet he didn't let a glimpse of it show on his face.

Rusty retorted by scrambling off of Pete's lap, almost falling off of the bed in the process, reaching for his shirt on the other side of the bed. He struggled to put it on as fast as he physically could. It didn't really feel fast enough. 

It didn't matter. Brock pulled himself out of his daze rather quickly and darted out of the room, the door shutting behind him. His expression waa unchanging from anything other than normal. 

Rusty tried to think positively of it. This was Brock Samson, ladies man. Rusty had walked in on him plenty times. How would this be any different from that? It wouldn't be. It shouldn't be. However, Pete was a guy. Rusty didn't know if that would make a difference. 

"That was.. The second most embarrassing thing to ever happen in my life." Pete stated, fixing his coat and his hair as best as he could. His shoes had somehow migrated on to the floor and his coat had been half on. 

"Honestly, this doesn't even break top ten. Wait, what could be worse than this for you?"

"Being disgraced off a game show for cheating and having to live in a trailer." Pete chuckled nervously and scrubbed his hand across the back of his neck, "I didn't force you in to that, did I?" 

Rusty shook his head and finished buttoning up his shirt. His eyes migrated to Pete's collarbones. "No.. It was.. It.." He paused. "That was amazing, White." 

Pete looked down and tried to hide a small smile forming on his lips, pressing his hand in to the sheets of the bed. The way Rusty and him usually talked was the usual poking fun of each other at any chance they got. This felt way different.

He brought Rusty's face closer to his again, nudging his lips against the corner of Rusty's mouth. He planted a few kisses there first before hovering his mouth over Rusty's. 

His breathing quickened ever so slightly, loving this feeling. Their lips not quite touching, but being so close that he could close the distance at any moment. 

"Yeah. It was." He whispered against Rusty's lips, wondering when to kiss him again. 

Rusty moved his hand so it rested on Pete's chest, then pulled him closer by his shirt. 

Pete let out a little irritated puff, his lips still close to Rusty's. "You paying my dry cleaning bill by making all these wrinkles?" 

Rusty snorted. "Yeah, like I can afford that."

They sat like that in silence for a little while before Rusty reached over, slipping his finger's in between Pete's.

Pete eyed Rusty up and down, keeping their fingers interlocked for a few moments and planting one last slow kiss in to his mouth before standing. "I'm gonna go wake Billy up."

Rusty groaned and stood too. "Fine, fine. I suppose."

"Just.. Hit me up later if you wanna do something, alright?" 

They parted ways, Rusty heading in one direction and Pete in another. Rusty headed toward the kitchen while Pete headed back to the living room to wake the boy genius.

Rusty found Hank and Dean sitting at the kitchen table half-eating some cereal, half punching each other from across the table. When Rusty walked in though, they stalled.

"Mornin', pop!" Dean stated, taking a sip from a cup of orange juice. 

The house was quiet, so Dean's voice carried throughout the kitchen.

Rusty gave him a little nod. "Did you boys at least somewhat enjoy the whole 'prom' experience last night?"

Hank chuckled. "Mine night was GREAT. Dean messed things up bigtime with his wannabe girlfriend though."

Dean pointed a fist at Hank. "Shut up! Shut! up! SHUT!! UP!!" 

"Boys, I think women problems were far from the worst thing about that whole experience." Rusty walked over and poured himself a tall cup of coffee, taking a long drink from it.

"Such is the life a Venture, fast and dangerous." Hank noted, giving his dad some finger guns.

The kitchen smelled of fruit and bacon. There was a plate besides the stove with a few pancakes smothered in fruit, as well as some bacon that Rusty hadn't noticed when he first walked in.

"Why didn't you boys eat any of this?" 

"To be honest, nobody hardly ever cooks so we're kinda used to cereal." Hank said, shoving another spoonful of his cereal in his mouth. 

"Who made it?" Rusty inquired, trying not to sound too nosy, but ultimately sounding super nosy anyway.

"Brock, I think." Hank pointed as Brock walked back in to the kitchen.

"Brock, you cooked?"

"Yeah." He replied, picking up the plate by the stove and handing it to Rusty. "If they're not gonna eat it, you should." 

"Alright." Rusty said, hesitantly taking the plate and sitting at the table. 

"Maybe you should stop trying to date girls, Dean. Could just be gay." Hank said, reaching over and flicking Dean's wrist, making him drop his spoon in his cereal.

"CUT IT OUT! I like girls! Just girls!" Dean reached in and grabbed his spoon out, using his shirt to wipe it off. 

"Dean's gaaaaaay!" Hank sing-songed, flicking him again, this time snatching his brother's spoon. 

Rusty tensed up at Hank's comment. He didn't tried to not make it so obvious that the comment that struck something within him, but it was hard.

Instead of eating the breakfast Brock had prepared, he picked it up and placed it where it had originally been in the kitchen. He hovered over the plate for a minute, but snapped back in to reality once he felt the boys' gaze on him.

He didn't say another word to any of them as he left. He didn't know what he would say. Instead, he headed back to his room to get out of his suit.


	4. Chapter 4

1980's

Rusty swore under his breath and crumpled up another piece of paper, throwing it right in to the trash can. 

It was finals week and he could literally hear his hair falling out from all the stress he was under. As he scratched his head, sure enough, it was. A small clump came out when he ran his hands through. 

His anger was boiling within him. He had to decide upon a major soon as well, which only added to his misery.

This paper he had to write had to be ten full pages long. The ideas weren't coming to him. It was due in a little under a week. He was at page four so far. That left him another six pages to fill.

He threw down another piece of paper, then another. A knock sounded on the door.

"Yeah?" Rusty inquired. It was 10pm on a Friday night. That meant that it definitely wasn't Brock. Not to mention, Brock didn't knock. 

Pete entered, bottle of booze in hand. "Hey, it's Friday night. Why are you still studying?" 

He peeked his head over at Rusty's desk that was dimly lit by a lamp. "Oh, jeez. Take a break, would ya?"

Rusty tapped his foot against the ground before standing from his seat. "This is 45% of my entire grade." 

"Pleaze just relax for once in your life. Even if it's just for a second." Pete took a seat on Rusty's bunk, popping the cap of the bottle. 

Rusty sighed and went to sit by Pete, stopping to turn on the stereo before taking a seat. Their campus was technically a dry campus, but that mattered to close to nobody.

Pete took the first sip, him wincing a bit. Rusty looked at him with confusion then took a drink himself. He winced even harder and tried not to spit the drink right back out.

"What in the hell is thi-" He turned the bottle over to reveal its label. "Cinzano Bianco? Where did you get this?"

Pete chuckled, snatching the bottle back. "Guy across from me." He took another drink. "I'm beyond caring if it actually tastes good." 

They took turns drinking until the bottle had been emptied, Rusty hastily tucking it away in case campuses security decided to pay a visit. Now, they were left alone with their thoughts. 

Pete crawled on to the floor, laying spread out on his back. Rusty reached his leg down and gently pushed on his stomach.

"Shit, don't do that. I'll throw up." Pete said, sitting up.

Rusty smiled, sitting down beside him on the floor, both their backs against the bunk. Pete had been close enough that Rusty could smell the liquor on him. 

He leaned over Pete to open the window. The air was crisp, cold. Too cold for the time of year. The dorms were stuffy though. The air felt nice as it brushed against Rusty's face. He could tell that Pete felt the same way. 

He leaned back over to his spot and pulled his knees up toward his chest. Rusty turned his head just enough to see Pete out of the corner of his eye. 

Pete tucked his hair behind his ears, staring outside while the radio played softly.


End file.
